Dinner
by Cheeseburger of Doom
Summary: His master taught him about hunger, and his master feeds him every night. What will happen when there is no more dinner? [warning: this fic is horror]


Notes: I don't hate these characters, I'm just rising to the challenge...make people think I'm deranged? I think I can do that...

um. family life...I just made it up. and then destroyed it, so I guess it doesn't matter. I think this might count as AU or...something. yes.  
  
Written for Moffit's "Squick fic" challenge. which means...  
  
WARNINGS: Rape, torture, general gross-ness (necrophelia included). Not for the squeamish.  
  
**Dinner**

"I'm home."

The first thing that always greeted him was the smell. He thought that he should be getting used to it, but instead it got worse with each passing day. It was probably due to the fact that he left the house every day, and forgot all about the smell -- yet it was always there to greet him when he got home.

"Welcome back." The voice that greeted him sent shivers down his spine, every time. He was beginning to forget the sound of his parents' voices, little by little. They had greeted him at the door every night, once upon a time; it seemed like so long ago, now. Had it only been a few weeks?

He dropped his school bag onto the floor, where it would remain until the morning. He had no time for homework, not anymore. He had always done his homework like a good little boy back then, and it had always been easy for him because of his intellect -- an intellect which was being allowed to rot.

He entered the room where all of his worst nightmares came true every night, and greeted the smiling face that so often made him want to cry.

"Are you hungry?"

He shook his head. He was never hungry anymore. "Not tonight, I'm not hungry tonight --"

"I'm always hungry," murmured the bastard that had stolen everything away from him, "so it doesn't matter if you want to eat or not."

"Please --"

"I love it when you beg."

He got down on his hands and knees, and he begged. His tormentor laughed at him. This was a part of their game -- but the tormentor was always the winner. The master was the one who always got his way.

"I love it when you beg, but you know it will never work."

The tormentor opened the door, and the smell increased a hundredfold. The smell of something that had once been alive, but had been robbed of its life long ago -- the smell of something that was currently crawling with maggots and falling to pieces --

His intellect wasn't the only thing that was rotting, these days.

"Your mother and father have missed you," said the master. "Say hello to them."

"Hello, Mother and Father," he said. He had no choice but to do what the master said. He'd had no choice for a very long time, now.

Had it only been a few weeks? What did it matter -- this is how it would be for a long time to come.

"I've missed you as well," he continued. He kissed the empty eye sockets of his mother, and smiled at his father -- though his father probably couldn't see the smile anymore, since most of his head was gone.

"Are you hungry?" the master asked again.

"Oh yes," he replied, and he began to feast.

Oshitari Yuushi was surprised that no one ever smelled it on him. He was not a normal boy, for all that he appeared to be one -- but no one knew. If he smiled in his usual way, and pretended to be who he had always been, no one even suspected.

When someone asked him about his parents, he replied casually that they had gone overseas, and he was staying with his uncle now. They had sent him a letter just last week, and they were doing just fine! They were really enjoying their new lives now, in a place that was much better for them. They only wished that he could be there with him.

The inquirer would always be sympathetic after the last, and he would smile at them, and tell them that he didn't mind -- he didn't like the place where his parents had gone. He would see them again soon, probably; until then, he would be content with what he had.

Though content was probably not a good word for it, after all.

He couldn't exactly tell the truth, however. How many people would believe it, anyway?

"And how are your parents, Yuushi-kun?" asked an old friend of his mother's one afternoon. He had bumped into her on the way home from school.

"Well, I killed them," he replied. "They are kept in a closet in my house. Their bodies will disappear long before they've had a chance to truly rot away, however, since --"

The horrified look on her face was enough to stop him there. He laughed. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke."

"That's not very funny," she scolded him. "Give your mother my love."

"Of course."

He would be sure to whisper words of love into his mother's ears before they disappeared. He always kept his promise.

"I'm home."

Oshitari wondered, sometimes, why his tormentor did not drive him home from school in the afternoons. It would save them both time -- but perhaps he enjoyed greeting Oshitari so much that he did not want to be denied it.

"Welcome back." The smiling face that greeted Oshitari was the same as always. "Are you hungry?"

"Not tonight," Oshitari replied. "I'm not hungry, so please --"

"I love it when you beg."

It was their ritual. Master would be so angry if he was denied it. Oshitari had to please master, or it would only hurt more for him in the end.

"Please, master, please --"

"You must be hungry, Yuushi," the master murmured. He pulled Oshiatri to his feet and kissed him. Oshitari could taste his parents' blood on the master's lips. He had already begun dinner without him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait. I was famished."

Oshitari shuddered. "I don't want to --"

"You must be hungry..."

The bodies of Oshitari's parents thudded to the floor. There was less and less of them each day.

"Mother," Oshitari said, cradling the body of his mother in his arms, "I love you."

"Enough -- eat."

The command had to be followed. Oshitari dug his fingers into his mothers brains. He would not need a knife tonight, because her skull was completely gone. It would be easy to eat with his hands.

Her brains tasted much as his father's brains had. There was a slightly different aftertaste, perhaps because her brains had been exposed for longer, and were more rotten.

His tormentor grabbed his wrist, and licked some of the blood off his hands.

"It always tastes better on you," he purred. The master reached into a gaping hole in Oshitari's father, and smeared his hands with blood.

Oshitari did not struggle when the master ripped off his clothes, and smeared the blood onto his body. He did not struggle when the master licked the blood off of him, then touched him and licked him and --

Would the master ever get tired of this game? Oshitari wondered. His mind was in a haze, as it always was after he had his dinner.

Would the master ever tire of him?

Oshitari remembered the day that he had been forced to kill his parents. It had been a day like any other. He had gone to school, attended his classes, and gone to tennis practice. He had laughed with Gakuto over something trivial; had laughed at Atobe in secret when he thought the boy was being a peacock. Just a day like any other.

Only that day, he had been aware of eyes on him. That in itself was not so unusual, because those eyes had been on him for quite some time. Those eyes pierced into his very soul --

On this day, they were worse than usual. His watcher seemed to have come to some sort of decision.

"I want to speak to you after practice," said his coach. "I have something I want to discuss with you."

Oshitari had nodded, and after practice he had walked right into a trap, expecting advice on his tennis, or perhaps a lecture for some reason or another.

The memory was so vivid, he could almost relive it every time --

He was raped on the floor of a classroom. There was no one around to hear his screams. Sakaki laughed, and commented on how he was not normally the screaming type --

As Oshitari lay in a heap of blood and sweat and tears, he cried. He was not the crying type either, and Sakaki laughed harder.

"I've had my eye on you for a while," Sakaki said, tracing the lines of Oshitari's stomach. "You're such a fascinating child."

"Pervert," Oshitari said. Sakaki slapped him.

"You'll learn not to talk back to me," he said. "You'll learn. You're mine, now."

"I'll never be yours." Oshitari had every intention of calling the police once he somehow escaped. He was not ashamed to tell anyone what Sakaki had done -- he was not like some helpless rape victims who could not speak out because they were afraid it was their fault.

"That's what they all say." Sakaki traced his tongue along the lines of Oshitari's stomach. "I get them all in the end."

"Just how many of your students have you raped?"

Sakaki did not reply. Oshitari tried to rise, tried to run away -- but Sakaki held him down, and bit his neck and sucked out his blood, just like a vampire --

"Now get up, and put on your clothes. I'm taking you home."

Oshitari did not know what Sakaki's purpose was in bringing him home. He had to know that Oshitari was going to tell his parents the moment he stepped in the door --

"Yuushi! Why are you so late?" his mother asked.

"I --"

"I needed to discuss a few things with him," said Sakaki, who had come in with him. "I'm very sorry about it."

"Ah, and you are?"

"His teacher," Sakaki replied. "Of many things."

"Mother --"

"Your son is a very good student," Sakaki said. "I think he will go far."

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Oshitari's mother asked, obviously charmed.

"That would be lovely."

"Mother --"

Oshitari was a forgotten thing. He couldn't believe that his parents were about to sit down to dinner with the man who had raped him, and they wouldn't even listen to him, and --

"I'm afraid that I must confess something," Sakaki said, as he helped himself to food off of Oshitari's table. "I'm in love with your son, and I want him to be mine. Which means that you'll have to be removed."

"What are you talking about, Sakaki-san?"

"I want your son to be the one to do it."

"What?"

"Yuushi -- kill your parents for me, will you?"

Oshitari shook his head mutely, terror and anger and hatred causing him to be unable to speak. Sakaki laughed at him, pressed a knife handle into his hands, and pushed him --

Oshitari tried to miss, but the knife plunged into his mother's heart anyway.

"What the hell is this?" his father demanded, knocking over his chair as he stood. "Stop this --"

"Kill her," Sakaki commanded.

Oshitari looked at the blood on his hands, and the expression on his mother's face. She could not believe that her son had hurt her.

"But it wasn't me, mother, he pushed me --" His hand was the one stained with blood, though.

Why was she still looking at him like that?

"Kill her."

Oshitari pulled the knife out, and then plunged it back in. He did it again, and again, until his father pulled him away.

"Stop it, Yuushi, what the hell are you doing?"

"You can kill him, too."

The knife somehow found its way into Oshitari's father, in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythm that sent blood spurting in all directions.

Oshitari could taste that blood on his tongue.

That wasn't the last time he tasted it.

"Yuushi...What's this mark on your neck?" Mukahi asked, peering at closely. They were changing for practice.

"Mark?"

"It looks like a hickey. Have you been fooling around with someone besides me?"

"Of course not, Gakuto."

It was their usual game. They always played at being naughty -- even though they had never been together that way. They might have, if Oshitari hadn't been under express orders not to touch anyone other than his master.

As it was, Mukahi didn't really understand his reluctance.

"Then why do you have a hickey?"

"It's not a hickey," Oshitari said. He covered his neck with his hand. "It's just a mark."

"Well, if you need a hickey, I can give you one --"

"Cut it out!" Shishido growled.

"You're just jealous," Mukahi sniffed.

Oshitari was relieved that he had been saved from making a reply.

"There isn't much of them left, but there is enough," Sakaki said, and he raped the bodies of Oshitari's parents, right in front of him.

Oshitari watched; watched as Sakaki fucked the headless corpse of his mother, and what was left of the lower half of his father.

He watched, and there were tears in his eyes -- but that was strange, because he really didn't feel anything at all.

"You see, you're mine," Sakaki said. "I told you that you would be. Now come here."

Oshitari moved forward to him. The corpses thudded to the floor and were pushed out of the way, forgotten. Sakaki who smelled of blood and rotting flesh and was covered in pieces of what had once been Oshitari's parents, threw him against the wall and pounded into him with enough force that Oshitari felt about ready to break.

"Are you hungry?" Sakaki panted.

The skin on Oshitari's chest was being torn and blooded by a nail that was in the wall. There had been a picture hanging there once; a family portrait. In that portrait, his mother and father were holding hands and smiling; he was standing behind them, since he was taller than both of them, with an arm around each of them and smiling fondly.

The picture was on the floor now, just a short distance away. The frame was smashed and the pieces were scattered, and sometimes he walked on them and tore his feet.

He stared at the picture while other parts of him were being torn -- stared at it and wondered when he had ever been able to smile like that.

"Famished," Oshitari replied. The nail bit harder, Sakaki laughed, and he felt the whole world explode around him in a fiery white light of pain that was slowly turning into ecstasy.

"Have you guys heard about that body that got found last night?" Shishido asked. "It's fucking creepy."

"The one that was on the front page of the paper this morning? My parents were talking about it," said Ohtori. "Half of him was...missing."

"Yeah. Nobody could identify him, not like that. Can you imagine dying like that?"

"I'm going to die of old age in my bed," Mukahi announced. "No creep is going to murder me. I'm far too pretty. Right, Yuushi?"

Oshitari chuckled. "Whatever you say, Gakuto."

"Ah, don't be like that. Promise to protect me from the world, and all that shit."

Oshitari took Mukahi's hands in his, and looked into his eyes. "I promise to protect you from the world and all that shit, Gakuto, until the day I die."

Mukahi laughed. "Such a romantic. Too bad I'm not."

"Yes, too bad."

"You guys can even turn murder into a perverted conversation," Shishido muttered.

"Would you prefer if I talked about the corpse instead?" Oshitari asked. "About how it must have smelled, and how it must have been writhing with maggots, and about how it must have looked with some of its insides hanging out, and --"

"Just shut the fuck up," Shishido said. "I don't need to hear anymore of that."

"Don't bring up murder so early in the morning," Oshitari said. "It's indecent."

"What, so it's okay in the afternoon?"

"Of course."

"You're weird, Yuushi," Mukahi said.

"Yes, I am, at that. Let's go to class."

"I heard you making promises today," Sakaki said, as he fed Oshitari his mother's fingers. "I don't like it when you make promises to anyone other than me."

"It was only a joke. Everyone expects me to joke like that with him," Oshitari said.

"Your eyes seemed very serious."

"I am a good actor," Oshitari said. "You taught me well."

"Yes, I've taught you well, but have I taught you enough?" Sakaki shoved the corpse to the side. It left a smear as it went. The state of decay was growing worse, and the smell grew ever worse with it, and the mess it made was terrible --

Was the corpse even his mother? Oshitari couldn't recognize it any longer. Sakaki had disposed of the other corpse a few days ago, because it didn't taste very good any longer. This corpse was still fine, he said -- they would keep it for a little while longer.

Sakaki licked blood from Oshitari's lips.

Oshitari wondered -- how many people in the world knew the taste of maggots?

There was at least one.

No -- there were at least two. Sometimes the teacher ate them from his student's mouth.

Oshitari looked up and met the eyes of the one who was always watching him. His tormentor, his master, his owner -- he seemed satisfied that Oshitari had received his message.

A message that had been left for him in his locker.

A message that smelled of something that had once been alive, but had been robbed of that life a short time ago; something that would soon be crawling with maggots, and perhaps would one day leave a smudge across his floor when it was shoved aside in order to make room --

Oshitari petted red hair, and told the corpse that he was sorry. The corpse couldn't hear him anymore, because he was in a different place now, but he apologized just the same.

"I promised to protect you from the world, but since I failed at that, perhaps I will protect you from something else," Oshitari said.

Mukahi had always wanted to become one with Oshitari. Of course, when put like that, it sounded sentimental and foolish -- but if put like that, then one could think that his dream had become true, because he was now a part of Oshitari Yuushi, and would be that way forever.

Oshitari licked the blood off his lips, and covered the stain on the floor with some newspaper. It would probably be found eventually, and then it would be up to the authorities to try and explain it -- there was no trace of a body, but there had obviously been a murder committed here.

Actually, the place where the murder had been committed was unknown to the one who had disposed of the body, but they would not know that.

Oshitari wondered if Mukahi would have been pleased to hear that he tasted very sweet.

"Why did you get rid of the body?" Sakaki demanded. "I never told you to do that."

"I was hungry," Oshitari replied. "You've made me very, very hungry."

"I think that I've let you get too hungry," Sakaki said. "Must I teach you everything all over again?"

Oshitari did not reply. He was too busy staring at the picture on the floor, and wondering when he had ever been able to smile like that.

There was a smear of blood across the picture now.

Oshitari threw up.

Sakaki laughed.

"I didn't like the guy, but it's really starting to bother me that no one can find him," Shishido said. "I mean, where could he have gone?"

"Maybe he ran away because he was having trouble at home, or something," Ohtori said.

"You knew him the best out of all of us, so where do you think Mukahi went?"

Oshitari shrugged. "I really didn't know him that well at all."

Oshitari wondered --

What would happen when the last piece of his mother was gone? Who would they eat, then? Sakaki had assured that Oshitari would always be hungry --

Maybe he should have held onto Mukahi for a little longer.

Because once their dinner ran out, Oshitari would probably be the next thing on the menu.

Oshitari realized, as he stared at the picture on the floor, that he had probably never smiled in his life. He certainly couldn't see a picture of him smiling; the thing was covered in blood, and vomit, and everything else that had splashed on it during the eternity he had spent in this nightmare room.

No, he had never been able to smile. Or at least, he never would be able to.

Once upon a time, he should have killed Sakaki while he had the chance. At least then he would have been saved from becoming a murderer.

As Oshitari's chest was being bitten by a nail, and his body was being violated by someone who was too crazy for the outside world to comprehend -- he couldn't even kill himself, because he had learned his lessons too well.

"You're mine."

And he was.


End file.
